


Sketched Hearts

by GhostFox



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bokuto just wants his best bro back to normal, F/M, i guess it counts as a college au, kuroo loves chemistry, kuroo tries out nude modeling, yachi is an art major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:30:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostFox/pseuds/GhostFox
Summary: “So you’re telling me you have a job where you take your clothes off in front of a room full of people, let them look at you for an hour, and get paid afterward, but it’s not considered stripping?”Kuroo sighs for what must be the hundredth time since leaving class with Bokuto and making their way across campus towards the art building. He’s running out of ways to explain how he’ll be spending his evening without it sounding like a euphemism for sex work.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphire_eyes27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_eyes27/gifts).



> This is a (late) birthday present for the lovely [sapphire_eyes27](http://rolling-blunder.tumblr.com/)!!! She wrote Kuroyachi for my bday so it's only fair I return the favor. I hope you like it, love!
> 
>  
> 
> I want to be where the talk of the town  
> Is about last night when the sun went down  
> And the trees all dance  
> And the warm wind blows in that same old sound  
> And the water below gives a gift to the sky  
> And the clouds give back every time they cry  
> And make the grass grow green beneath my toes  
> And if the sun comes out  
> I'll paint a picture all about  
> The colors I've been dreaming of  
> The hours just don't seem enough  
> To put it all together  
> Maybe it's as strange as it seems
> 
> \- Jack Johnson

“So you’re telling me you have a job where you take your clothes off in front of a room full of people, let them look at you for an hour, and get paid afterward, but it’s _not_ considered stripping?”

Kuroo sighs for what must be the hundredth time since leaving class with Bokuto and making their way across campus towards the art building. He’s running out of ways to explain how he’ll be spending his evening without it sounding like a euphemism for sex work. 

“No, it isn’t stripping, Bo,” he says again, already regretting replying to the ad pinned to the science building bulletin board and wondering if the twenty bucks will really be worth it. “I’m just going to sit still for an hour so the class can practice anatomy or whatever.”

“Naked.”

“Well, yeah.”

“That’s stripping, bro.”

“You’re impossible,” Kuroo says, shaking his head at his friend. Bokuto just shrugs and fixes him with a stare that dares him to keep arguing, but he knows there’s no point. Once Bokuto makes up his mind about something no one can make him change it. 

“Hey, man, I’m not judging,” Bo tells him, hooking his thumbs under his backpack straps. “I’m just wondering if they need anybody else. I’ve got some great anatomy they could draw for twenty bucks and hour.”

Kuroo stops in front of the door to the class he’s supposed to model for, slapping his palm to his face and groaning. 

“I’ll head back to the dorm once this is finished and we can go get some pizza, alright?” He asks, hoping the promise of pizza will divert Bokuto’s attention.

“You’re paying, Chippendale,” he winks, smile growing exponentially in tandem with Kuroo’s frown. He turns to leave before Kuroo can actually wound him with his death glare, stopping to call over his shoulder, “Shake your ass a bit, maybe they’ll tip you and we can get garlic bread.”

“You’d pimp me out for garlic bread?” Kuroo asks, pretending to be offended but honestly just stalling before he has to head into the classroom. He isn’t exactly feeling confident.

“I’d do practically anything for garlic bread, but no, you’re right,” Bokuto replies, a smug smile on his face that always precedes a joke. “Your ass is worth more than that, see if we can get change for the arcade machine too.”

“How do you know what my ass is worth? You haven’t seen it. Well, not  _ all _ of it,” Kuroo says, thinking back to a particularly colorful memory in their dorm room.

“Not that you know of.” Bo winks before turning the corner at the end of the hall.

“Clean the kitchen while I’m gone!” Kuroo calls after him, but Bo doesn’t respond; not that he’d expect him to actually clean if he had. 

Kuroo checks his watch, five minutes before the class is scheduled to start, but with nothing left to do in the hallway he figures he should just head in and get this over with. He takes a deep breath before twisting the knob and pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder. 

A semicircle of curious eyes over the tops or around the sides of easels stacked with open sketchbooks meet his, and he can feel his heart beating in his throat.

“Uh, figure drawing 203?” Kuroo asks, voice wavering slightly as no one makes any signs of movement. He wonders if he should just book it, but he doesn't trust his wobbly legs to successfully carry him through the door. 

“Oh! You must be the model!” A girl hops up after what feels like an eternity, emerging from behind her easel to shake Kuroo’s hand and point him towards a cloth draped block of wood in the center of the semicirle. “We’re going to have you sit here.”

“Alright. No problem,” Kuroo attempts to smile, not wanting the class to realize how nervous he is. Getting naked in front of a bunch of strangers sounded so much easier in his head. 

“I’m pretty sure everyone is here so you can go ahead and get ready and we’ll get started,” the girl tells him as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. He must look awkward and uncomfortable since she shoots him a sympathetic smile before pointing to a corner near the front of the room. “There’s a curtain back there that you can get undressed behind.”

“Thanks,” Kuroo mumbles, setting his bag down and heading for the curtain. The jingling of his belt buckle rings out like a bell in the nearly silent echoing studio room and Kuroo starts to regret practically all of his life decisions. The cold air hitting his legs makes him feel more exposed than usual, and he grabs a paint covered sheet from a table to wrap around his waist before heading back into the room.   

“Uh, how do you…,” he pauses, not sure how to phrase the question. “How do you want me positioned?”

The girl from before looks up from her phone, seeming surprised at the sheet clutched in his hands before her eyes light up. “Oh, what a great idea! The sheet will be a nice touch,” she tells him, jumping back up from her seat to help pose him on the wooden block. 

She pushes his shoulders lightly and he takes a seat, the cloth covering the block feeling odd against his bare skin. “The most important thing is that you’re comfortable, so make sure you think you can hold the pose for an hour before we settle on something,” the girl tells Kuroo who just nods along, beyond the point of embarrassment and nearing a comforting level of numbness.

They settle on a pose that feels a bit more provocative than Kuroo expected, leaning on one arm with his ribcage lying across the wood, one knee bent up and the other leg flat, with the sheet draped over his hip and flowing to the floor like a stream of water. He feels like some greek sculpture, exposed bits and all, though he hopes he has them beat in that department at least. 

“Perfect!” The girl claps her hands together, beaming at him as the rustle of paper and pencil sharpeners fills the room behind her. “Now don’t move.”

“I’ll try my best,” Kuroo says, wanting to say something clever or interesting to cut the tension but not sure how to when his sole focus is on ignoring the fact that twenty people are simultaneously looking at his dick with enough focus to recreate it on paper. 

Just think of something else, he tells himself as he tries his best not to make accidental eye contact with any of the students, though by the look of exhaustion on their faces and the smudges of charcoal on their cheekbones he wonders if they’re even people anymore or just soulless art making machines. They probably don’t even see him as a human being but a collection of organic lines and shading. It’s comforting, to say the least.

Kuroo definitely understands; balancing biochemical reaction equations often puts the same dead fish eyed gaze on his own face. 

Sitting there gets easier after a while, his shoulders relaxing and mind wandering to the homework due in a few hours he still hasn’t done or what type of pizza to order. The minutes start to flow by, barely even feeling like a passage of time at all, until he sees her. Sitting just to his right, where his eyes hadn’t quite wandered yet, is the most beautiful girl Kuroo has seen in his life. 

She’s tiny, one leg swinging above the ground where her bright red sneakers don’t quite touch and the other bent around one leg of her stool. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail with a blue star print scrunchie, a few thin golden strands falling free and framing big chocolate brown eyes that stare so intently back and forth between him and her paper that he’s sure she can see right through him. Her thin frame is covered by a red flannel open over a black cami and dark jeans, and Kuroo swears it’s love at first sight. 

The girl’s gaze is focused, her hand moving with quick deft movements even when she looks away from the easel. She looks like she could cut glass with that stare, or burn you to ash with a smile. Kuroo is so intrigued and yet terrified, sure that the tiny gorgeous girl could shatter his heart on command if she wanted to, and probably has done so to countless guys before him. 

And yet, he can’t look away. It’d be awkward making eye contact with someone in his current state, but the girl isn’t really looking at him, so he lets his eyes linger longer than he probably should. Even when that rich chocolate meets his own gaze she still doesn’t see him, too busy converting his likeness on her paper. 

Kuroo likes that about her, he decides, the impersonality of it all. Girls always seem to look at him  _ too _ much, as conceited as that sounds. They’ll come up to him after class or in hallways, blushing cheeks or confidence oozing from every pore, asking him to study some time or go out for lunch. He’d accepted most of them when he had first started college, every pass boosting his ego just a bit, but after a while he started to hate the routine. 

The girls were cute, as girls often are, and definitely sweet, but the whole endeavor just felt shallow to him. Kuroo didn’t have anything against them, of course, but he realized the problem was from a lack of genuine interest. They’d see a nice face, decide to go for it, and the two of them would end up having an awkward lunch or cup of coffee while realizing they know nothing about each other and have no desire to learn. 

It was exhausting, and Kuroo had grown to hate the custom of appearance based romantic interest. 

That’s what struck him about the girl with the red shirt and the intense eyes. She’s beautiful, definitely, but she’s also intriguing. She is so immersed in her art, Kuroo can practically see passion welling in her irises, that nothing else registers but her and the scratch of graphite against thick white paper. He wishes he could bottle that devotion, that tangible dedication, and keep it with him.

The way she looks through him, as dumb as it sounds, makes Kuroo wants to believe she’s seeing some part of him he never shows. Her eyes sink deeper than his skin, past bone and straight to his beating heart as if he’s made of glass, but Kuroo  _ wants _ this girl to see all of him, aside from what she can clearly already see. He wants to bear his soul to her, because maybe she can turn it into art.

The girl stops, hand falling away from the paper and grip slackening on her pencil. She studies what she’s made, pulling both legs up and tucking them beneath her on the stool as she turns her body away from him and closer to the paper. Her eyes turn from deadly to curious, poring over her sketchbook as if Kuroo disappeared entirely, no longer in need of his service. He feels silly for it but his heart aches a bit in the absence of her attention. 

With pencil in one hand and eraser in the other she starts to clean up her work, frowning at certain spots and confusion crossing her face at others, making only the most delicate twists of her wrist to perfect the lines. Her tongue peeks out between her lips as she carefully erases near one of the corners, making Kuroo’s heart skip a beat from how cute it looks under her little button nose. He can’t see her paper but he’s sure that it’s a masterpiece, since anything touched by those fingertips must be. 

Backpacks start to shuffle, the soft chatter around the room growing louder as paper is shoved in bags and zipped and chair legs squeak across linoleum. 

The girl’s head snaps up, looking at the clock and eyes going wide as she realizes the time. Kuroo understands her without having to speak; it didn’t seem like an hour to him either. She looks back at him, and for the first time she actually makes eye contact, seeing him as a living, breathing person, and her face immediately goes scarlet. 

Kuroo isn’t sure what happened, the fierce girl he’d been watching disappearing suddenly and melting into this cute little mousy thing right before him. She’s a whole different person, which only makes him want to know her more. Kuroo opens his mouth to call out to her before realizing that he’s still completely naked, some of the students leaving the room shooting him looks as if to ask why he hasn’t put his clothes back on yet. The girl flips the page of her book to close it and starts to gather her things into a pencil pouch, averting her eyes as best she can as the flush spreads to the tips of her ears. 

“You can go ahead and get dressed, class is over,” the first girl who had greeted him says, tearing his attention away from the other. “The money is in an envelope on the front desk. Thank you so much for helping out, you were great!”

“Uh….thanks,” Kuroo mumbles, a rush of urgency washing over him as the blonde girl drops her sketchbook into a starry blue bookbag matching her scrunchie and slings it over her shoulder. He can’t let her get away.

Before his determination can disappear Kuroo ducks back behind the curtain, pulling his jeans on as fast as he can and still pushing his arms through his shirt sleeves as he grabs the envelope and heads for the door, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and trying not to lose his shoes he loosely slipped on. When he steps out into the hallway his heart sinks, no sign of that blonde ponytail among the thin crowd, but he refuses to give up. Kuroo takes the stairs three at a time, eyes darting around and hoping to catch a glimpse of her somewhere.

It isn’t until he steps out onto the front path of the art building that he finally sees her, one hand wrapped around the strap of her bag as she makes her way across the grass. Kuroo’s heart leaps, and he catches up to her easily with his long legged strides before realizing how creepy he must seem. Why would she want to talk to him? Especially after finding out he practically chased her out of the building? 

Kuroo stops in his tracks, the last thing he wants being to scare the girl or upset her in any way. He gives a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping before starting to turn back around, but before he can a flash of yellow catches his eyes as her cell phone slips out of her back pocket and lands in the grass. She doesn’t notice, just continues on her way blissfully unaware, and Kuroo decides that sometimes, fate reaches out to give you the push you need. He never believed that until that moment, but it seems a convenient time to start. 

Kuroo scoops the phone off the ground, smiling at the little animal stickers stuck to the case before calling out.

“Excuse me!”

The girl stops, her bag bumping against the side of her leg before she spins around, a look of absolute terror in her eyes. 

_ Good job, Testurou _ , Kuroo thinks,  _ you failed step one _ . 

“Y-yes?” She stammers, her voice just as small as she is.

“You dropped this,” Kuroo tells her, holding the phone out. 

“Oh!” Her eyes dart from his to the phone in his palm and back up. “I’m so sorry! Thank you!”

She reaches out to take it, the brush of her fingertips feather soft and warm against Kuroo’s palm, and he can’t help but smile. 

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, sorry,” she says again, wrinkling her nose at her own words. “It’s a nervous habit.”

Kuroo has no idea how the girl could ever be nervous around anyone. She’s like a superhero in his eyes, fierce and poised and absolutely stunning, The longer he stands talking to her the closer he feels to her chewing him up and spitting him out, though he can’t bring himself to turn away. 

“That’s alright, when I get nervous I shrug a lot,” Kuroo shrugs, feeling like a wave of sunshine 

just touched his skin when the girl giggles. “Oops.” 

There’s an awkward few seconds of silence between them while Kuroo debates whether it’s okay to ask this nameless girl to come eat pizza with him and wondering just how creeped out she must be. All he knows is he can’t stand the thought of letting her leave without at least learning her name. As if by some miracle, she saves him the trouble.

“My name’s Yachi,” she tells him, holding one tiny hand out to him with a warm and slightly nervous smile. “Thanks for saving my phone.”

“Kuroo,” he tells her, grasping her hand and gently shaking it with the widest goofy smile he’s ever worn, feeling lighter than air. “Thanks for dropping it.”

Yachi’s face flushes again, a color Kuroo is sure must have been crafted by the hands of an angel. “Well, I g-guess all those years of being a clutz f-finally paid off” she stutters, trying and failing to be suave. Kuroo can’t help but laugh as the image of the heartbreaker shatters and adorable nervous Yachi is left behind. He decides he likes the real image of her better, and her eyes soften a bit at the sound of his laugh.

“Do you,” he starts, pausing for a second and considering his wording to come off as friendly and nonchalant as possible. “Wanna grab some pizza with me? My roommate and I were going to head over there but he always steals my pepperoni.”

“Are you sure he’d be okay with that?” Yachi asks, looking genuinely concerned and Kuroo is sure that if she gets any cuter he’s going to need a defibrillator.  

“Yeah, no problem,” he smiles, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “I’ll bring him something back to the dorm.”

Yachi considers his offer, every second like an eternity as Kuroo’s heart beats against his ribs like a bass drum. Finally a small smile forms at the corner of her lips and she nods.

“Sure,” she answers, a shadow of mischief passing her chocolate brown eyes. “As long as I get to steal your pepperoni in his place.”

They both dissolve into giggles, the sound harmonizing around them and making Kuroo believe in love. She can have as much of his pepperoni as she wants, and while she’s at it she can have his beating heart since it’s already irretrievably her’s.

 

***

 

Kuroo had never truly experienced the phenomenon of falling for someone, and never as quick or as devastatingly hard as he had fallen for Yachi. He’d had crushes in the past, of course. Girls with cherry flavored lip gloss on plump pink lips or boys with crisp jawlines under smooth tan skin, but nothing ever stuck with him like Yachi’s spun gold hair or dainty hands almost always covered in graphite smudges. Maybe those sappy sonnet poets were onto something all along and you just had to find your own work of art to make the words finally make sense. 

Eating pizza with Yachi went better than Kuroo could’ve imagined. He had never been so genuinely interested in someone, or had them seem to actually want to get to know him in return. She asked him about his classes, what he wanted to do with his chemistry major and what his other interests were, a smile never leaving her face, and he asked all about her art and her dreams, taking in every word like his last meal and almost completely forgetting his pizza. 

Neither of them realized how long they sat there until the sun had started to set and two plates of garlic bread were completely decimated, but Kuroo was sure he could sit there for days and sustain himself on the sound of her voice alone. 

One pizza date became two, and then three and four and more than Kuroo could count. They were quick friends, but he was reluctant to ever push her farther than that. Kuroo Tetsurou was unequivocally in love with Yachi Hitoka, but his fear of losing her as a friend was stronger than his need to tell her how he felt. 

“Hello? Earth to Kuroo?”

Bokuto’s hand waving in front of his face as they sit on the dingy couch taking up half of the floor space of their tiny dorm room snaps Kuroo back to attention, and he suddenly remembers the warm game controller in his hands and the flashing colors on the tv screen before them. Bo sighs and leans back in his seat, knees knocking against Kuroo’s since the loveseat is not actually wide enough to hold them both. 

“Geez, what’s gotten into you? I just destroyed you in like, less than three minutes. Do you have mutant parasites in your brain or something? Why are you so spacey?” Bo looks genuinely concerned, and Kuroo feels a bit guilty. He’d promised to spend the day rotting his brain with video games since he’d been ignoring his friend so much lately to spend more time with Yachi, but even during sacred bro time he can’t get her off his mind. 

“Sorry, just daydreaming I guess,” he answers, looking back up at the screen where Bo’s character sits celebrating over his dead one. “Wanna do another round?”

Kuroo locks in a character but Bokuto doesn’t move his joystick, fixing Kuroo with a contemplating stare that is rarely seen in his round amber eyes. “It’s the girl again, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“You can’t hide it bro,” Bokuto says, dropping the controller on his lap and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been like this for weeks now.”

“Like what?” Kuroo isn't sure why he’s denying it so much, but he can’t help but feel that admitting his feelings vocally would be a form of admitting defeat. 

“All,” Bokuto pauses, looking up as he searches for the right word. “ _ Mushy gushy _ .”

“Mushy gushy? Bro, what does that even mean?” Kuroo asks, unable to keep a smile from cracking at the word. 

“You know, like when a girl in a movie meets a cute boy and she’s all smiles and giggles and daydreams, doodling hearts on her notebooks and stuff. You’re the girl!”

Kuroo slaps a hand to his chest, jaw dropping as he pretends to be offended, desperately trying to cover up his embarrassment. “I am  _ not _ a girl, and I’m not all  _ mushy gushy _ .”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“How’d you do on the exam in Chem last week?” Bo asks, taking Kuroo’s denials as a challenge. 

“That’s not relev-”

“What was your score, bro?”

Kuroo sighs, shoulders slumping and turning his head so he won't have to look straight into Bokuto’s eyes. “A…74.”

“Exactly!” Bo yells, as if this was some sort of uncovered clue. “Kuroo ‘4.0 since Grade One’ Tetusrou got a C in _ Chemistry, _ because he was too busy making goo goo eyes at the Pencil Princess to study.”

“No way!” Kuroo scoffs, trying to clear his head of thoughts of calling Yachi Pencil Princess and wondering how hard she’d blush. “I was just busy, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Bo grins, like a predator finally cornering its prey. “Too busy being in  _ loooove _ .”

“I am  _ not _ in love.”

“Dude, you call her  _ Toka _ .”

“Yeah? And?”

“And she calls you  _ Tetsu _ .”

“Those are our names.”

“No, they’re nicknames only you two use for each other,” Bo says, looking as if he wants to grab Kuroo’s head and violently shake it. “That’s what couples do!”

“You don’t understand, bro,” Kuroo says, buckling under the weight of the argument. There’s no point in fighting it, Bokuto knows him better than anyone, and he especially knows when he’s being an idiot. 

“No, you’re right. I don’t understand. Why don’t you just tell her?” Bo turns on the couch cushion to face Kuroo directly, game controller abandoned and hugging a pillow to his chest in true high school girl sleepover style. 

“Have you seen her?” Kuroo asks, thinking about her smile that sets his heart on fire and those chocolate brown eyes that warm his skin. “She’s way out of my league. She’d take me apart. She’d stomp on my heart and-,”

“She’s 4’ 11” on a good day and maybe 95 pounds soaking wet. If she did go on the attack I’m pretty sure you’d survive it,” Bo deadpans, unamused by Kuroo’s deflection of the question. “Besides, I’ve had the misfortune of being in the same room as the two of you and if you're mushy gushy than she’s ooey gooey. Just go for it.”

“You’re talking nonsense again, dude,” Kuroo tells him, raising an eyebrow at his diction. “Ooey gooey?”

“No! Dude!  _ You’re _ talking nonsense!” Bokuto practically leaps off of the couch, causing an earthquake on the cushions as he hops up onto his knees and grabs his friend firmly by the shoulders. “I don’t care what you do, or how you do it, but you are going to confess your love to this girl, and you’re going to do it soon. I can’t live with a mushy gushy bro anymore, got it?”

Kuroo most definitely does not ‘got it’, but the intensity in Bo’s eyes inches away from his own makes him afraid to admit it. “I...I guess?”

“Buy her flowers or write her a letter or get naked in front of her again, it doesn’t matter. Just. Do.  _ Something _ .”

Almost as if a light switch flips in Kuroo’s mind everything suddenly makes sense. “Bo, you’re a genius. I could kiss you.”

“Wait, I am?” He sits back, confused at the sudden change of energy in the small room. “Also don’t, save that for Yachi.”

“You said get naked in front of her again! I’m going to model for her class again. That’ll definitely trigger something, right?”

“Are you saying you’re going to seduce her?”

“Well, yeah,” Kuroo shrugs, the idea losing a bit of steam as he says it out loud. 

“Sounds like a golden plan to me,” Bokuto nods, beaming and reassuring Kuroo’s scheme. “It’s better than sitting around here doodling her name on your chemistry notes.”

“Hey!” Kuroo snaps, looking down and wishing he could deny the jab. “That only happened once.”

“That I know of.”

Heat flares across Kuroo’s face as he lobs the controller on his lap at Bokuto’s face because yes, in fact, that had happened more than once.

After a brief pillow fight, keeping true to their sleepover aesthetic for the evening, Bo returns to the game they’d been playing and Kuroo sends a quick email to the representative for Yachi’s figure drawing class. She sends her reply almost immediately, thanking him for volunteering again, and Kuroo wonders whether he’s making the best or worst decision of his life. 

 

***

 

Kuroo has never felt so stupid in his life as this moment, walking across campus to the art building in an outfit that just moments ago had made so much sense in his mind. He’d dug through his drawers for the one dress shirt he knew he’d brought with him from home, a simple black button up, and a pair of dark jeans that didn’t look like they’d had pizza dropped on them once a week for two years (most of them had, thanks to Bokuto’s messy table manners). He had even put on his nicest pair of boxer briefs, the pair that made his ass look really great, but it never dawned on him until now that no one in the class, and Yachi specifically, would see any of his efforts. 

He’s going to be completely naked, just like before, except this time he’d feel like an even bigger idiot.

When he opens the classroom door his eyes dart straight to the chair he knows Yachi should be in, but it’s empty and his stomach drops. The girl from before, Michimiya she had said her name was in her email, jumps up to greet him but he doesn’t listen to a word she says, his plan slipping through his fingers. 

“Is Yachi not here?” He asks, cutting off whatever Michimiya had been saying. She gives him an odd look, as if to ask how he knows Yachi or why he looks so frazzled, but quickly replaces it with another friendly smile. 

“She said she’s running a little bit late today, she needed to stop by a professor’s office hours before coming but she’ll be here soon. Everyone else is here though, so we can go ahead and get started,” she tells him, pointing him towards the curtain in the back of the room. Kuroo nods and turns, his mind racing with regret for not planning better.

As he undresses he can’t help but compare his complete numbness to embarrassment with how completely mortified he was last time. But without Yachi here what is there to worry about? None of the other students in the class matter to him like she does, and he definitely didn’t wear nice underwear to impress _ them _ .

The paint splattered sheet is in the same place he left it before on the block in the center of the room though he doesn’t feel the need to use it this time. Michimiya tells him how to sit and the class gets to work, the scratch of pencil to paper mocking him and his stupid ideas. Why couldn’t he have just spoken to Yachi like a normal adult? Why couldn’t he just spit out the words instead of making some elaborate scheme to seduce her? She would have expected more from him, she  _ deserves _ more, and he’s disappointed in himself. 

Except that he can’t do it. He can’t just blurt out everything he feels and hope that she feels the same, because why would she? She’s mesmerizing, a masterpiece made from brilliant pigments and delicate brush strokes, and he’s just an unremarkable science nerd who was lucky enough to meet her. He can’t stand the thought of ruining their friendship just because he’s a useless pining mess. Art is meant to be seen and not touched, and he just needs to learn to live with the rules.

The creak of the doorknob pulls him out of his thoughts, and his head whips around to find Yachi pushing the heavy door open with two hands and stepping into the classroom. Kuroo can’t help but smile at the sight of her, blonde hair circling her shoulders above a black dress and tights with cat heads on the thighs, his heart aching in his chest, but her face is much different when she catches sight of him. Her face goes scarlet, a color he’s seen on her hundreds of times, and she stops in her tracks. 

“Kuroo,” Michimiya calls, breaking off their awkwardly stunned eye contact across the room. “Could you turn back this way a bit? Sorry, I just already started drawing your head and now the angle is off.”

A few other students nod and murmur in agreement, and Kuroo has to practically tear his gaze away from Yachi to oblige. “Shit, sorry! I just got distracted.”

“No problem. Just try to keep still, okay?”

“Yeah, got it.”

The students go back to their work and Yachi takes her seat, entering Kuroo’s line of sight but refusing to meet his eyes as she busies herself with getting her pencils and sketchbook out. She reaches up and wraps her hair in the blue scrunchie around her wrist, keeping it out of her eyes, and Kuroo waits for her to turn back into that fiercely focused girl he first saw. 

Instead, Yachi opens her sketchbook, looks up at him, and goes rigid again. Her face burns to the point that Kuroo wants to ask if it hurts her at all, but she just swallows hard and grabs a pencil, setting it to the paper and getting started. 

Yachi draws, but her eraser follows closely behind almost every stroke of her arm, and Kuroo wonders if there’s anything left. Eraser shavings litter her lap, and she looks frustrated to the point of tears as she draws and erases over and over. Kuroo tries to meet her eyes to smile encouragingly but she seems to go out of her way to avoid looking at him, and when she does she just blushes, eyes darting quickly away.

What did he do to her? Why is she so upset with him?

Kuroo’s heart aches again, but this time it’s less with love and more with regret. Coming here was the worst idea he’s ever had, and he’s had some pretty terrible ideas. Somehow he upset Yachi, enough that she can’t even look at him, and he can’t help but think that he should have just confessed after all since he clearly already ruined their friendship. 

“Hitoka? Are you okay?”

Kuroo hadn’t noticed Michimiya get up and quietly move to Yachi’s side, too busy having an internal crisis, but he can’t help but feel a sense of accusation in the curious glance she shoots him.

“I’m fine, I  just can’t get the hang of this form,” Yachi says, sniffling and setting her pencil down.

“Some days just aren’t art days,” Michimiya smiles, laying a calming hand on Yachi’s arm. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Yui, but actually I think I’m going to go a bit early, I’m not feeling well.” Her voice is small and hushed, as if she’s telling a secret, but Kuroo knows it’s just because she’s a terrible liar. She rarely lies, but when she does she whispers, and Kuroo thinks it’s one of her cutest habits. 

“That’s fine, let me know if you need anything, okay?” Michimiya tells her, concern all over her face. “I can bring some soup by your dorm later if you’d like.”

“Thanks, I’ll text if I need you,” Yachi smiles, and Kuroo can see the guilt in her expression for lying to a friend and receiving sympathy in return. She’s so easy to read and yet he never gets tired of it. 

It isn’t until she’s pulling the door open again that it sinks in that she’s leaving, and Kuroo starts to panic. She’s leaving because of him, and she’ll probably break off all communication and ignore him forever, but he can’t let that happen without at least apologizing for whatever it is he did to make her hate him. If he never sees her again he at least wants her to know he’s sorry.

Kuroo’s heart hammers in his chest as he jumps up, a chorus of gasps and groans coming from the students in the room. He freezes, not sure how to explain himself. 

“Kuroo? What’s going on?” Michimiya asks, staring at him wide eyed as he stands before the class completely naked and probably looking like a crazed animal.

“Uh, I need to borrow Yachi’s chemistry notes. I’ll be right back.” Without looking back or giving them enough time to respond Kuroo grabs the paint splattered sheet and sprints out of the room, barely hearing Michimiya calling something after him about Yachi not taking chemistry. 

There’s a few students in the hallway, all shooting him confused stares as he runs past them clad in nothing but a sheet gripped around his waist, but he can’t be bothered to care. Finding Yachi is the only thing on his mind. 

Luckily, this time, she hasn’t gotten too far, and he catches up to her in the stairwell. 

“Toka!” He calls, regretting it almost immediately as she jumps at the sound and almost trips. Instead of looking up she ducks her head and speeds up. “Hey, Toka! Wait up!”

Kuroo practically leaps down the stairs, catching up to her in the first floor hallway. She stops finally, knowing that he won’t give up until she talks to him, and turns around, looking on the verge of tears as she tries to look just past him instead of at him. “H-hi.”

“Hey,” Kuroo pants, trying his best to catch his breath and not lose his grip on the sheet. 

They stand in awkward silence for a few moments, both flushed and hearts pounding so hard they can almost hear them. Kuroo opens his mouth to speak, but Yachi breaks the silence.

“I’m heading in early tonight, so-,”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, cutting her off and falling to his knees on the linoleum in front of her. Yachi looks as if she’s seconds away from a heart attack but she finally meets Kuroo’s eyes, and he figures if that’s all he gets from this then he’ll consider it a success. 

“What?” Yachi asks, taking a step back but stopping as he grabs her hand with his free one. 

“I don't know what I did, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I screwed up and hurt you or made you mad, whatever it is I’m sorry for it. You’re the last person on earth I ever want to upset, because seeing anything other than a smile on your face is a tragedy,” he pauses, taking a breath.

“Wait a sec-,”

“Whatever happens, if you ignore me or never talk to me again, it’s okay. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. For everything.” He adds the last part for himself, apologizing for never telling her how he felt and now for never getting the chance to. 

Tears well on the edge of Yachi’s lashes like bits of watercolor, and when she blinks they roll down. Kuroo opens his mouth to apologize again, feeling like the scum of the earth having made her cry but still not knowing what he did, but she smiles, and he freezes. 

“Didn’t you tell me to stop apologizing when I’ve done nothing wrong? If I can’t then you shouldn’t either”

“Wait, what?” If Kuroo thought he was confused before then now he’s just completely lost. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not upset with you, Tetsu, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she tells him, tears still trailing down her cheeks but smile still intact.

“Then, why were you so upset in class, and why did you leave?” He asks, standing up as his knees start to ache against the floor but not releasing Yachi’s hand. “And why are you crying?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” she giggles, and Kuroo can’t tell if it's from nerves or genuine. 

“Huh?”

“I’m not mad at you,” she says, shaking her head. “I left because I was  _ embarrassed _ .”

“Embarrassed? Of what?” Kuroo asks, feeling like his brain was shaken around in his skull after being pulled in so many different directions. 

“Of seeing you naked,” she mumbles, looking away and blushing again.

“Toka, you met me when I was naked,” Kuroo chuckles, letting go of her hand to lift her chin with his finger.

“Yeah, but that was before-,” she pinches her eyes closed and shakes her head as if she can reverse her words. “I mean-,”

“Before what?”

Yachi sighs, shoulders falling in defeat as she looks up, meeting Kuroo’s eyes with her chocolate brown ones he loves so much.

“The models never bother me because I don’t really know them. They’re just subjects to draw, and so were you the first time you came in,” she starts, voice trembling as she tries to keep it even. “But then we became friends, and I don’t think that would’ve been a real problem, I mean I’ve been acquainted with a few of the models before but-”

“Toka, you’re rambling.”

“Right, right,” she says, shaking her head again, blonde ponytail swinging back and forth. “The truth is, I couldn’t concentrate in class because you aren't just a friend to me, Tetsu. Or at least, I don’t want you to be.”

“So, you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Kuroo asks, confused again. Yachi just sighs, stepping back and putting both hands indignantly on her hips.

“No, I don’t! I want to be more!” Kuroo’s mouth falls open in shock, not from her words, which don’t quite process in his head, but because he’s never heard her yell before. Her voice is surprisingly loud, bouncing off of the walls around them. “I love you, you big dumb dummy!”

Yachi gasps, realizing what she said and slapping her hands to her mouth, but Kuroo just stares at her wide eyed. It’s like every wish he ever made has been granted all at once; he can practically hear birds singing and cherubs playing their trumpets around him as his heart skips a beat and everything in his life makes sense again. 

He doesn’t know how to put the feeling into words, so he does the only thing he can think of; he cups Yachi’s tiny beautiful face in both hands and kisses her gently, trying his best to make her understand exactly the way he feels about her but knowing he can never quite do it justice.

“I love you too,” he says, pulling back and grinning so wide he’s sure his face will split in half. “And I may be a big dumb dummy, but I’m your big dumb dummy now.”

“Then I’m the luckiest girl alive,” she smiles, cheeks still tinged pink and eyes still watery. “But Tetsu, you forgot something.”

“Hmm?” Kuroo hums, too blissful to tear his eyes away from Yachi’s or pay attention to anything else but that fact that she’s his and she  _ loves him back _ .

“Your sheet,” she whispers, covering a giggle with one hand as students start to file into the hallway as their classes end, the air around them filling with murmurs and laughter.

Kuroo snaps to attention, heat spreading across his face and all the way to the tips of his ears as he bends down to scoop up the sheet and wrap it back in place. Yachi takes his hand and they make their way back upstairs to where his clothes and a classroom of angry art students await him, everyone they pass looking at him as if he’s either some sort of prostitute or a performance artist.

None of that matters to him though, since no matter what happens to him from now on he’ll have Yachi by his side, and if that means he’ll go down as the school stripper then so be it. He couldn’t be happier. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Questions? Ideas? Just wanna talk? You can find me on tumblr [here.](http://ghost--fox.tumblr.com/)  
> (Also check out my new [writing blog](http://foxesandferrets.tumblr.com/) with [sweetferret](http://sweetferretxd.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
